


Bad News

by DualWieldingCousland (DualWieldingMama)



Series: Starting Over [12]
Category: Dragon Age (Video Games), Dragon Age: Origins
Genre: F/M
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2015-12-25
Updated: 2015-12-25
Packaged: 2018-05-09 03:56:15
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 1
Words: 4,654
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/5524481
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/DualWieldingMama/pseuds/DualWieldingCousland
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>The stress of Dairren’s wedding is finally over.  Regan and Alistair seem to be getting along well, having fallen into a comfortable (perfect?) relationship.  So what’s next? (and Tymber still sucks at summaries.)</p>
            </blockquote>





	Bad News

“I thought your mother was trying to set you up with some Orlesian?”  Regan Cousland plucked up a piece of chicken she no longer had any interest in and slipped it under the table to Jasper.  The mabari was currently standing guard … lying down near her legs.  “What was his name again?”

“Gaspard,” Regan Trevelyan answered, rolling her eyes.  She made one of those faces her mother claimed would freeze that way and earned a giggle from a little girl walking by with her mother.  “Ugh.  The man was an insufferable ass.  I kept telling mom he was only interested in the family’s money.”

“And I assume she didn’t believe you?”

“Once I told him that dad’s will left everything to charity … she kind of had to.”  When her friend gave her a rather confused look, Trevelyan laughed.  “He immediately cancelled the date she’d set up and proceeded to launch into this long-winded explanation of how he just had to go back to Orlais to help out his cousin and her girlfriend and had no idea when … or if … he’d be back.”

Cousland laughed, shaking her head.  “As if your father would _really_ cut you and the rest out.”  Maker, she missed the Trevelyans … well, some of the Trevelyans – Regan and Tristan … and Gabriel, at least.  The family had moved away to Ostwick when the girls were young, but they’d gotten together at least once a year until a year or so before Regan’s parents were killed.  Some of her favorite memories were the late night phone calls with her name-twin once they’d gotten old enough to pay for their own long-distance calls.

“And even if he did, there’s no way he’d cut out Wes’ kids.  He _adores_ them.”  Trevelyan smirked.  “It was all just … so … tragic.”  She dropped enough money to cover both their meals and shoved away from the table with Cousland following suit.  “What about you?  The last time I saw you, you said your mother was talking up the Vael’s youngest?”  

They walked through the mall with Jasper in the lead, tugging just barely at his leash.  “Sebastian?  His parents sent him to some overly religious boarding school in Starkhaven.”  Cousland shrugged as she peered into the window of store after store.  “Mom said it was because he was too spoiled, so that kind of put a halt to all that.”  In truth, she’d heard rumors that it wasn’t _just_ him being spoiled, but that he was dallying with any and every female that he wanted and his parents were afraid there was going to end up being several … complications that would come along in nine months or so.  

Trevelyan smiled briefly before reaching out to rest a hand on her friend’s arm.  Maker, she’d missed this; just hanging out with her name-twin, talking about whatever idiot their mothers had tried to set them up with.  Eleanor had always been a little more gung-ho about it, but Lorraine had done her fair share of match-making.  She hadn’t intended on losing touch.  School and work and, well, life in general, seemed to collude in order to keep the pair apart for years.  “I … we heard about your parents.  I’m … sorry I wasn’t there for you when it was all going on.”

Cousland shrugged and patted the other woman’s hand.  “Don’t worry about it.  Your family sent a beautiful arrangement to the funeral home and your mom wrote a very touching letter.  I honestly wouldn’t have been very good company had you actually been here.”  She walked in silence past a few of those overly themed stores that seemed to have stock in bright pink, trying to resist the urge to turn up her nose.  She wasn’t sure if the other Regan’s presence would have helped at all, really.  For a few months after it happened, she didn’t speak with anyone except Nathaniel, and that was probably a mistake, given how things had ended between them shortly after.  

“What about this place?”  Cousland stopped in front of a large clothing store that had a pretty decent sale going on.  “What was it you were looking for again?”

“A gift for Cullen.”  Trevelyan detoured into the shop to examine the racks of men’s shirts and sweaters.  “Our anniversary is coming up and I want to get him something _normal_ so he won’t suspect ….”  She flushed, ducking her head and only barely peeking at her friend.  “Well, so he won’t expect the thing Dorian convinced me to buy him … me … him?”

“Well, now _I’m_ curious, RT.”  Cousland laughed, holding up a dark blue sweater so she could get a better look at it.  If she was going to get dragged shopping for one man, might as well shop for two.  “Who’s this Dorian, and _what_ exactly did he convince you to buy for your ….”  She paused, thoughtful.  Looking over at her companion, she asked, “Are you two actually married, or just living together?  What do I refer to Cullen as?”

“We’re married.”  She smiled apologetically.  “I’m sorry we didn’t tell you … or, _I_ didn’t tell you, RC.  I just … I didn’t ….  Maker, we didn’t even tell my _parents_ until afterwards.”  They’d wanted to keep it as quiet as possible; knowing some of her family would look down on Cullen’s profession.  The Trevelyans were one of those families where no one seemed to have to work.  It wasn’t that they _didn’t_ work, but … jobs like hers … and Cullen’s … were not necessarily looked highly upon.  Her parents thought it was bad enough that she worked security.  At least her job was mostly boring.  Cullen, associating with what they considered the rabble was almost criminal in itself.  Her mother had even threatened to disown her.  But once they saw how happy he made her … how much he loved her and vice-versa, they relaxed … a little.

“Well, congrats, then.”  Cousland smiled, hugging her friend tightly.  “We’ll have to actually go out to celebrate one night … when the three of you can coordinate schedules.”  Her smile faded slightly.  Sometimes, she loved the fact that she could come and go as she pleased; worked mostly whenever she wanted to as long as her work got done.  But she didn’t really love her job.  Not like the other Regan and Cullen seemed to.  Even Alistair, for all the headaches he put up with, seemed to truly enjoy his job.  And, admittedly, he came home with some insane stories.

“We’re actually both off next weekend,” Trevelyan offered.  She’d finally settled on a red button-up with subtle brownish undertones and a pair of jeans she was pretty sure would hug in _all_ the right places.  “That’s when we’re celebrating … he says we have plans on Friday, but … maybe Saturday?”  It would be nice to do something with them; she _still_ felt embarrassed about the confusion they’d caused the day she discovered who her neighbors were.  That was not the way she had wanted to meet new people, and the fact that she _knew_ one of them already had just been … well, it had just been embarrassing.

“I’ll need to check with Alistair, but if he’s not already off that day, I’m pretty sure he can find someone to switch with him.”  Cousland paid for her purchases as well and the trio headed back out into the mall.  “I’m still trying to figure out how your husband knew Alistair.”  She glanced down at Jasper, who was suddenly bouncing happily at her side while repeatedly looking behind them.

“Who knows me?”

A pair of familiar arms wrapped around her waist as warm breath tickled her ear.  Cousland bit back a smile and leaned against Alistair, delighted to discover he was wearing the cologne she’d given him recently.  Maker, she’d thought it smelled good in the bottle, but on him it was heavenly.  She saw Trevelyan quickly hide a laugh behind her hand and made a rather undignified face.  “Her _husband_.”

“Rutherford’s _married_?”  Alistair glanced from one Regan to the other, unable to hide his surprise.  “That’s something I never thought I’d hear.”  He leaned in and kissed his Regan’s cheek.  A hand slipped down to squeeze her hip as he wished they weren’t in quite so public a place.  “I just saw you two walking and wanted to say hello.  I _should_ get back to patrolling, though.”  

“Think you’ll be free for dinner tonight?  Rory and his family are in town and want to get together.”  

“I think I can manage it.”  Alistair reluctantly released her and couldn’t stop the smile when she turned around to kiss his nose.  “It was a pleasure seeing you again, Miss … I guess it’s _Mrs._ Rutherford, isn’t it?”

“Call me Reg- … well, no ….  That could get a little awkward.”  Regan Trevelyan looked at Regan Cousland and pursed her lips.  “We’re going to have to come up with _something_ for them to call us; you realize that, right?”

“Only if we’re going to keep speaking to each other.”  Cousland smiled innocently at her friend before nodding her agreement.  “I guess they could use the same nicknames we use for each other?”

“Might be best; especially since neither of us have what could be considered _short_ last names.”  Trevelyan looked back at Alistair and shrugged.  “Well, at least for now, call me RT.”

“Fair enough … RT.”  Alistair bowed dramatically, then turned his attention to his _girlfriend_.  Maker; that still seemed a little odd.  He reached for her hand, brought it to his lips and brushed soft kisses against her skin.  “I will see you this evening, my lady.  Just let me know if I need to come by to pick you up, or if we’re meeting somewhere.”

~~~~~~~~~~~      ~~~~~~~~~~~      ~~~~~~~~~~~      ~~~~~~~~~~~      

“You _can’t_ be serious.”

Regan slumped against the wall in her hallway, phone held tightly against her ear.

“No.  There’s no way.  Just … no.”

She couldn’t believe what she was hearing.  Surely he was kidding.  He _had_ to be kidding, right?

“This … this can’t be happening.  This is some sort of sick … joke, right?”

She rested an arm over her stomach and slowly slid down the wall to the floor.  Maker, she felt sick.  She always thought people who said that when they got bad news were just … being dramatic.  But she honestly felt like she was going to vomit.

“Fine; I … I understand.”

She closed her eyes, gripped her phone so tightly a small part of her feared she might break it and bit back a frustrated sob.

“ _Yes_ , I’ll be there.  I’ll … I’ll leave tonight … if I can ….”

Regan hung up the phone and just … stared at the wall.  Andraste’s balls, how could this be happening?  Hadn’t she been through _enough_ of this?  He was appealing.  Rendon-fucking-Howe was appealing his conviction … or his sentence; she wasn’t really sure which.  And some boneheaded judge was _actually_ considering it.  Her head fell back, thumping against the wall at the same time her phone went off again.  She glanced down at the message and just … stared. 

 

_You OK?_

 

Maker’s ass; _of course_ it would be him.  He’d have gotten the same phone call.  Or maybe he’d even been in the lawyer’s office when he called.  Or maybe he’d put the idea in Rendon’s head in the first place.  She still couldn’t shake that little voice that said he’d _had_ to have known what his own father had planned.  She took a breath and made three short, quick replies.

 

_Not … really._  
               You?  
               Did you know?

_No.  and no, I didn’t.  
               Are you going?_

_I … have to, don’t I?  
_

_I guess you kind of do._

She rubbed her eyes and tried to fight the memories that came to mind.  She had barely thought of him since the day she left Highever, but now … she couldn’t help but remember bits and pieces of their time together.  Happy times spent riding through the nearby woods, archery practice, stolen moments in the haylofts … the one night they’d gotten carried away and spent the night together; Maker, Fergus had been furious when he’d found out.  Those moments gave way to the bad … the suspicion, the tears … Andraste help her, the fights.  A tear found its way down her cheek as she made herself respond.

 

_What about you?_

 

_I’ll be there, but ……._

 

_But?_

_Let’s just say I doubt it’ll be the way he expects._  
               Do you want a lift?    
               I doubt you’re in any shape to make the drive right now.

 

Well, he was right about that, anyway.  She wasn’t in the best shape to drive ten minutes, let alone the entire trip to Highever.  She’d ask Alistair, but … she didn’t want to make him take _more_ time off work just for her.  Besides, he didn’t need to sit through who knew how many hours of digging up her heartache.  She wasn’t worth that.  This way she’d have a ride with someone who knew the story … wouldn’t necessarily ask her to rehash it.  Sure, he came with his own set of problems, and it would be an extra heartache, but ….

 

_That would … be good.  
               But Jasper is coming too._

_That’s fine.  I’ve got a blanket I can put over the seats for him.  
Where do you live now?_

_Can we just meet you somewhere?  After … Vaughan, I … …_

_Vaughan?  What’d that idiot do?_

_Long story._

 

_OK.  Where do you want to meet?_

_Can you get to the Denerim Mall?_

_I think so.  5:00?_

_That’s … fine.  
               And Nate … Thanks._

She dropped her phone and wrapped her arms around herself.  Jasper padded over and plopped down next to her, laying his head in her lap and one paw over her legs.  She let one hand fall to rest on his neck and traced fingers through his fur as fear … anxiety … worry … she wasn’t really sure what to call this feeling, but it was something unpleasant for certain, washed over her.  She should call Dr. Anders, but … no, no buts.  She slowly scrolled through her contacts until she reached the doctor’s number … and got his voice mail.  She left a brief message and hung up, staring at the phone’s now blank screen.

She had two hours to pack and get to the mall.  She called a cab.  Regan considered driving herself, but … how would she get her car _back_ to the apartment?  Leaving it for days in the mall parking lot wasn’t an option.  She called a cab.

Flames; she had to call Fergus … tell him.  Or would he already know?  He and Oriana hadn’t been there; maybe they wouldn’t be contacted.  She pressed the call button as soon as she found his name.  “Fergus, Howe’s trying to get out.  I’ll be there tonight.”  The message was simple … to the point.  She hung up and struggled to her feet.  She needed to pack.

~~~~~~~~~~~      ~~~~~~~~~~~      ~~~~~~~~~~~      ~~~~~~~~~~~      

An hour and a half later, she was in a cab, on her way to meet one of the last people she’d ever thought she’d see again.  She wasn’t looking forward to the drive to Highever with him … not really.  But, a small part of her thought it would at least be nice to mend a friendship that had been broken through no real fault of their own.  And she needed to find Alistair … let him know what was going on in person, if she could.  

Alistair sighed, rubbing his eyes as he drove around the parking lot.  Maker, he _hated_ being on lot-duty.  All he did was drive around in circles.  Theoretically, he was there to prevent people from breaking into cars, but no one ever tried.  Occasionally, he’d have to jump start a vehicle, or help someone locate their car in the sea of vehicles.  But usually, he just drove and tried not to fall asleep.  At least his shift was up in half an hour.  He wanted to try and surprise Regan, after behaving less than perfectly the night before.

Dinner with her ex-boyfriend and his family had been slightly … awkward.  The pair had several moments early in the evening where they looked just a hair too close for his comfort, though Bella seemed to be at ease with it.  He was pretty sure he’d said or done something during dinner to embarrass Regan unintentionally, though she had assured him on the way home that that hadn’t been the case.  He’d already apologized to Roland and Bella for behaving jealously, and thankfully both understood.  

He planned on making her dinner … a dish Zevran had assured him would mend any fences left fractured … or something.  He had intended to call her that afternoon and make sure she hadn’t made any plans for the evening, but he’d forgotten to grab his phone, so it was sitting in his bedroom while he was at work.  And, of course, he couldn’t remember her number without it.  He smiled to himself as he pictured her face lighting up when he came to her door.  How she would wrap her arms around him, kiss him … Maker, how he loved when she kissed him.  Her lips were so soft and ….

“Nice car.”  Regan ran her fingers along the passenger door as Nathaniel came around to meet her.  She wiped at her eyes, frustrated that she couldn’t find Alistair … or even Zevran … before her ride arrived.  Jasper stayed nearly stuck to her side as her … friend … reached for her arm.  “New?”  Why was she talking about his car?  She didn’t _care_ about the stupid car.

“Six months old; it’s last year’s model.”  Nathaniel quietly wrapped his arms around her, nudging Jasper just barely out of the way with his leg.  He pulled her to him, ran a hand along her spine as he kissed the top of her head.  In spite of everything that had gone on between them, he … missed this.  “You ready?”  He ignored the faint growl coming from the mabari smiling as he felt her grip tighten just for a moment before she nodded.

Wait a second.  Was that …?  That was Regan he’d just passed, wasn’t it?  Regan and Jasper, both … standing by … a strange car?  He swing the security vehicle around just in time to see the woman … he could _definitely_ tell it was Regan now – her hair was unmistakable, and that mabari that had just leapt into the backseat of the slick-looking black car had certainly been Jasper.  He watched as the stranger touched her arm … some dark-haired man whom Alistair watched rest his hand at her hip before pulling her into an embrace that seemed to go on for an uncomfortable amount of time, then guide her toward the passenger seat before going to the other side of the car.  Alistair did his best to get over to the car before it pulled out of the parking lot; maybe she was being kidnapped?  But a string of slow-moving station wagons seemed to be intent on keeping him from getting across the lot.  Finally, he could do nothing but stare as the car drove off, dragging his heart with it.

He pressed the button on his shoulder-mic.  “Unit two-oh-nine to Radio.”  When the dispatcher answered, he fought to keep his tone level.  “I’m ten-nineteen.”  

“Ten-four, unit two-oh-nine.  Everything OK?”

“I … yeah; everything’s fine.  I’m just … close to my end of shift and there’s paperwork to do.”

“Ten-four.  See you in a few.”

~~~~~~~~~~~      ~~~~~~~~~~~      ~~~~~~~~~~~      ~~~~~~~~~~~      

Alistair all but flung his duty belt toward the sofa as soon as his door was closed.  He ran his hand down his face, trying to collect his thoughts.  She wasn’t home.  No one … not even Jasper … was home.  Her car was in the lot, right in its normal place.  He’d decided to go into her place … make sure she was OK.  Maybe he’d imagined it was her in the parking lot.  Maybe she was lying in her apartment … bleeding from another attack; Vaughan could have decided to ignore the restraining order, right?  He had a key to her place.  Surely she’d be ok with him coming in to check on her … make sure she was safe?  Her apartment had been empty.  Some clothes scattered about on the floor, a suitcase or two missing … but no one was there.

He felt … ill.  Had she been more upset than she let on?  That hadn’t been Roland that picked her up.  It was someone he’d never seen before.  Why had she suddenly just … left?  He rubbed his eyes and decided he needed a beer.  Beer would help.  He started to move toward the kitchen when he noticed an envelope propped up on his table.  It hadn’t been there when he’d left that morning.  He picked it up and breathed in.  It … it smelled like _her_.  How … _why_ did it smell like _her_?

Almost recklessly, he ripped into the envelope, barely missing tearing the letter inside.  Opening the neatly folded missive, he immediately recognized the handwriting – the mix of cursive and neat print that flowed across the page.  His throat sort of closed up as he took in the few areas that looked like … well, they looked like they had gotten wet … smudging the ink after she’d written … whatever.  She’d been crying while writing this.  Andraste preserve him, she was breaking up with him in a damned letter, wasn’t she?  He started to crumple the letter up without reading, but stopped when he heard his phone’s text-message alert from the other room.  Maybe it was her?

He sprinted back to his room and snatched up his phone from the night stand.  The lamp teetered for a moment before settling back in place as he knocked against it in his haste.  The last text was from Zevran … nothing important.  But there was a missed call … several missed calls … _from her._  And he had voice mail.  He pressed the messages button and just … listened.

_He … hey, Alistair.  It’s … it’s me, but I gue… guess you knew that already.  I … oh, Maker’s ass, how do I say this?”_

There was a frustrated sigh and he couldn’t help the sinking feeling that settled over him.  She sounded like she was crying.  Here it came.

_“Maker’s ass, stop worrying.  I’m not breaking up with you over voice mail.”_

He stared at his phone and couldn’t stop the relieved laugh as he flopped onto his bed.  How did she know?

_“You’re seeing someone?”_

He didn’t recognize that voice … a masculine voice that certainly wasn’t hers.  Who was that?  What was his relationship with her?  Why had he been _hugging_ her like that?  Why had she just … gone off with him without a word?

_“Yes, I’m seeing someone.”  *sniff*  “I was … am … trying to let … him know …” *sniff*_

There was a pause where he could hear the obvious sounds of someone blowing their nose before she returned to the phone.  Why in Andraste’s name was she crying?

_“Just … hush.  Alistair, I … there’s a letter on your table.  It explains as much as I can right now.  I … words are hard … for me right now.”_

He could hear the tears … the stress … in her voice.  Blast it all, why couldn’t he have been there for her?  Why couldn’t he have remembered his stupid phone?  He could have heard her, _talked_ to her … helped her somehow.

_“I’ll … try to explain when I get back.  I … tried to find you at work, but … Zev and Wynne were already gone … or didn’t work today, and … and the new dispatcher wou … wouldn’t radio you … and … then my ride showed up and we had to go.  Read … read the letter.  I’ll ca … call you when I can.  I love you.”_

“I love you too.”  He had no clue why he said that … why the whispered response came out so naturally when it was just a voice mail.  But, Maker, he did.  And he _hated_ that he hadn’t been able to answer when she called.  He looked down at the letter clenched in his hand and bit his lip.  She said this would explain everything.  He had no idea what to expect.  Carefully, he unfolded the crumpled note and smoothed it out against his sheets.  Her writing was neat, precise … clearer than her voice had been, obviously.  

**_Alistair,  
Before you start worrying … no, I’m not breaking up with you in a letter.  You know I’m not that heartless, I hope._**  

He smiled and just shook his head.  She knew him far better than he’d realized … better than he knew himself, possibly.  When he met her, he wouldn’t have imagined that his first thought would be that she was dumping him; he’d never had that concern before.  Even when he’d been with Goldanna, he hadn’t worried that she’d dump him, and it hadn’t hurt when it happened, either.  Not like the mere thought of losing Regan had.

_**The prosecutor from Highever … the one that handled my parents’ murder case called me today.  Howe has managed to weasel his way into some sort of appeal.  I’m not sure if it’s over his whole conviction, or just his sentence.  Honestly, once Varel said something about him trying to get out, I kind of stopped listening.  But either way, there’s a hearing I have to attend back in Highever – tomorrow.  How it happened so fast, I don’t know.** _

_**~~I’m not~~ ~~I can’t~~ ~~I don’t~~ I can’t drive right now.  I’m in no condition to be behind the wheel.  This may be a little hard to believe, but … Howe’s son, Nathaniel, is giving me a lift back to Highever.  He’s supposed to attend this hearing as well.  I know it’s strange – the son of a murderer even speaking to the daughter of the victim, but … we used to date … before any of this mess happened.   ~~He~~ ~~We~~ This will be a ~~difficult~~ awkward drive; we haven’t spoken since I before I left Highever.** _

Alistair paused, his stomach clenching when he read who she was making the trip with.  If he had _just_ had his stupid phone with him … she wouldn’t be stuck in a car with someone else … an ex-boyfriend even; _he_ could have driven her down.  He hadn’t been there when she needed him.  Maker’s breath, he needed to be there for her, didn’t he?  

_**Fergus knows I’m coming, so at least I won’t have to pay for a hotel.  He**_ **might** _ **let Nate crash for a night.  Neither one of us are really in a good headspace right now.  Kind of obvious, I guess.   I can’t even write this letter without crying.**_  

_**The cab’s going to be here soon … so I don’t have to worry about my car being in the mall’s parking lot for days.  I didn’t want Nate knowing where I live.  After the whole thing with Vaughan, I** _ **really** _**don’t want anyone that I don’t fully trust knowing where my apartment is.  Really, if I could fix it so that** _ **only** _**my family … and you … knew where I lived, I’d be happy.** _

Alistair grinned at the small winking face she drew behind that.  He felt honored.  Void, he felt elated; he not only knew where her apartment was, _he_ had a key to it.  Her brother didn’t even have that.  “Maker’s breath, Regan … I wish I’d had my phone.”  

_**I hope this won’t take more than a day or so, but since I really have no idea what this monster is trying to do, exactly, it’s more of a sort of wait and see thing.  Hopefully I’ll be back in time for** _ **our** _**Friday ritual.  I have a feeling I’m going to need it this week. Honestly, what I really need is just to be in your arms … and soon.** _

_**I … guess I’ll end this here.  I’ll try calling you … again after I slip this into your apartment.  I … hope you don’t mind.** _

_**Love you  
~R** _

Alistair stared at the letter for a moment, reread a few small parts and sighed.  He couldn’t let her deal with this alone.  He slid his thumb across the screen of his phone and selected a familiar face before pressing the ‘call’ button.  “Duncan?  It’s Alistair.  I … I need a favor.”


End file.
